1. All I eat for dinner is the internet. It tastes awful.
    Poet Patricia Lockwood Dreams of Roasted Pturkeydactyls — Grub Street (via thisistheverge)

    (via thisistheverge)

    3 days ago  /  87 notes  /  Source: grubstreet.com

  2. washingtonpost:

This is how you can be tracked via your cell phone. Anywhere in the world. 

    washingtonpost:

    This is how you can be tracked via your cell phone. Anywhere in the world. 

    (via fastcompany)

    6 days ago  /  347 notes  /  Source: washingtonpost

  3. photo

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    6 days ago  /  2,641 notes  /  Source: darksilenceinsuburbia

  4. photo

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    photo

    6 days ago  /  1,732 notes  /  Source: wnycradiolab

  5. Now I am quietly waiting for
    the catastrophe of my personality
    to seem beautiful again,
    and interesting, and modern.
    Mayakovsky - Frank O’Hara  (via cityswim)

    (via an-itinerant-poet)

    6 days ago  /  1,643 notes  /  Source: safiyaaaaa

  6. How slow life is, how violent hope is.
    – Guillaume Apollinaire (via likeafieldmouse)

    (via likeafieldmouse)

    6 days ago  /  2,037 notes  /  Source: tasteforthetasteless

  7. photo

    6 days ago  /  88,592 notes  /  Source: nintendo-blisters

  8. birdsonly:

Black Redstart (juvenile bird) ~ Hausrotschwanz (Jungvogel) ~ Phoenicurus ochruros
Artsy Redstart :-)
2014 © Jesse Alveo  

    birdsonly:

    Black Redstart (juvenile bird) ~ Hausrotschwanz (Jungvogel) ~ Phoenicurus ochruros

    Artsy Redstart :-)

    2014 © Jesse Alveo  

    (via jomobimo)

    1 week ago  /  386 notes  /  Source: birdsonly

  9. 


A man feeding swans and ducks from a snowy river bank in Krakow

the contrast is insane

relevant to my interests

    A man feeding swans and ducks from a snowy river bank in Krakow

    the contrast is insane

    relevant to my interests

    (via bigbagoflittledonuts)

    1 week ago  /  700,030 notes  /  Source: v0tum

  10. I welcomed my slavish existence as a surgical resident, the never-ending work, the cries that kept me in the present, the immersion in blood, pus, and tears — the fluids in which one dissolved all traces of self. In working myself ragged, I felt integrated…
    Abraham Verghese, Cutting for Stone (via medicalschool)

    1 week ago  /  149 notes  /  Source: medicalschool